


Don't Mess With Me

by music_islife



Category: youtube - Fandom
Genre: Cannibalism, Dark, F/M, M/M, Murder, Tourture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2018-10-09 18:10:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10418118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/music_islife/pseuds/music_islife
Summary: .Mark has been ruling this kingdom since his fathers 'unfortunate accident'. He is feared by all, and he likes it that way. After all, fear is power, and he who has power rules the world.Based off the song 'Don't Mess With Me' by TempoSharkTHIS IS AN ORIGINAL WORK. DO NOT DUPLICATE AND REPOST ON ANY OTHER SITE. DO NOT STEAL. Originally posted on Wattpad





	1. Chapter 1

    Mark's footsteps echo through the nearly empty hall as he walks to his fathers quarters, the torches along the walls throwing shadows across his face. He shows no emotions, but walks with an air that seemingly demands fear and respect. He approaches his father's door and knocks before walking in, taking a seat at his bedside.  
"Hello Father," he says, voice smooth as poison and dark as the forest surrounding the castle walls.  
"My son," says the man, voice as frail and weak as he was, "I'm sure that you know why I've summoned you here."  
"The healer has found a solution to your ailment?"  
"I'm afraid not. No, the reason I called you here is, I'm afraid, much darker. You see, I am dying. As you are my only remaining heir after your brother's unexpected passing, you shall inherit the throne. I ask that you rule as I have, with a kind and just hand, and that you prioritize the safety of the kingdom. I wish that I-" his sentence is interrupted as a coughing fit wracks his body  
"Water, water please," the old man wheezes, gesturing to the pitcher on the desk by his bed. The young man pours his father a glass, and remains impassive as he slips the same poison into his fathers cup that he has been for the past three weeks. He wordlessly hands his father the cup and watches as the man drinks the mixture deeply.  He doesn't even flinch as the man chokes and begins grabbing at his throat, blood falling from the corners of his mouth. The new king simply stands and walks out of the room containing the now useless corpse, leaving it for the servants to find. After all, he had a kingdom to run.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ..

Mark looked out at the crowd of people in the courtyard. It was a mass of confusion, fear, and whispers, everyone wanting to know what exactly was going on and where the king was.   
Mark took a step forward onto the balcony, and the crowd fell silent. He began to speak.   
"As you may know, my father had fallen ill over the past several weeks. After a long, torturous struggle, death has laid hold on him," he spoke in a monotone voice, deep, dark, and loud, no expression on his face.   
"Therefore, I, the sole remaining heir, shall take over the throne and rule the kingdom." No one moved, all was silent save for the quiet sobs of some women in the crowd and the cry of an infant, as though they somehow knew what was going on and what will soon come to pass.  
"As my first act as King, I sentence the castle chef to death by guillotine for the murder of my father."   
Having said this, Mark turned around and strode back into his chambers to begin the passing of several new laws as he listened to the screaming and wailing that began after his death sentence. He later watched the execution of the innocent man, and if you looked closely, you could see the slightest hint of a smile on his lips as the man cried innocence and screamed for his life. He ordered that all shall watch the execution, failure to comply being punishable by death. Not a sound was made by the crowd, the shrill cries of the innocent man rang through the courtyard, silenced abruptly by the sharp sound of the falling blade, followed by the gurgling of the man choking on his own blood. The crimson liquid fell from his mouth and the wound on his throat caused by the dull blade. The crowd watched in terrified awe as the man choked on his blood. The blade was heisted and lowered three times in slow secession until the mans head finally fell off, spraying the ground and children unfortunate enough to stray to the front in a warm crimson mist. The ruler simply walked away from the blood staining the pavement a dark, rich copper, and ordered that it not be cleaned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An example must be made

Mark sighed, already annoyed by the sobbing woman kneeling at his throne. The head guard had told him that she came to appeal for the release of her sons, who were imprisoned for theft, or something like that. He didn't really care. Actually, he was sure that the boys were already dead anyway.  
       He flicked his wrist, and two guards  stepped forward and proceeded to drag the still sobbing woman out of the room and throw her down the steps to the streets below.  
   "Next," he drawled, resting his chin on his hand. Through the doors strode his newly appointed adviser, as the previous one was sentenced to death by   asphyxiation for 'treason to the king', which was actually just disagreeing on the new laws Mark wanted enforced.  
     "Your majesty," the adviser started, bowing until his beak like nose almost touched the dark marble floor. "As you have requested, I have brought to you all of age males in the kingdom and surrounding countryside, as well as all shillings found in their homes. I trust you will find the collective amount... satisfactory,"  he continued, face still touching the floor.  
"Excellent, you are dismissed," Mark replied in his dark monotonous voice. The advisor backed out of the room, never once lifting his head. Once he had left the room, Mark turned his attention to the group kneeling in front of him. There were approximately 53 males in front of him, ages ranging from thirteen to 39. After assessing them for a few moments, he addressed the group.  
      "As you know, my kingdom has recently discovered a cave in which a large amount of coal is suspected to be. I have chosen you to go too this cave and work for me extracting the coal for an undetermined amount of time. Your payment will be 3 pence for each lump of coal that you find, which will be delivered to your family, if you have any. I will give you this day to tell your families and prepare to leave. I expect you to be here at sunrise on the morrow and not a moment later. Understood?" This was met by a small uproar from the elders of the group, and confused mutters and titters from the younger boys.  
  "You can't expect us to up an' leave with ou' a moments notice! Who will support our families, run our businesses! This isn't  fair!" Shouted a few men in the crowd, most notably a tall lanky man wearing what appeared to be hand-me-down trousers and a tunic made from burlap.  
      Mark remained stoic, but his eyes and clenched fists revealed the burning rage inside of him. How dare this filth think he could speak to him! Mark pointed to a young boy in the back of the crowd.  
"You. Come here."  
The small boy walked to the front of the crowd to the foot of the kings throne, where he stopped and kneeled. Mark stood and grabbed the small boy, who was not but 4 years his younger, by his tawny hair. He pulled the child up until he had to stand on his toes before the group. His dirty, twig like fingers grabbed at the Kings fist, trying to pry it away from his hair.  
"You think I am cruel, that I am unfair?" Mark's voice was quiet, yet strong and laced with barely concealed rage. His eyes screamed madness, though he appeared cool and collected.  
"You think that my methods are unjust? Have I not allowed you a home in my kingdom when many of you fail to pay the simple taxes required to fortify the palace walls that surround and protect you? Do I not allow you to keep crops that are rightfully mine so that you can feed your filthy and overpopulated households?" He punctuated this by a hard tug to the boys hair, which caused the child to whimper.  
"What is your name, child?" Mark said, turning his gaze to the boy in his grip.  
"S-Samuel," the youth stuttered. James turned back to the crowd.  
"Very well. When Samuel's mother asks, let her know that her son was used to demonstrate the 'cruelty' of your king." Having said this, the young king procured a knife and proceeded to slice the boys neck, starting at his left ear and slowly pulling his blade till it reached the boys right ear. The child looked out at the crowd, eyes wide with fear, before gurgling on his blood, bubbles forming and popping in the large gash surrounded by torn flesh. The boy slumped to the marble floor, staining the dark marble and his hand stitched clothes a dark crimson color. After a moment, the boy went still, all that remained of him a blood stained corpse. A younger boy in the crowd wailed, having just witnessed the unjust murder of his older brother.  
   "Now, does anyone else have a statement?" The hall remained silent. "Good. You are dismissed. Save, for you," here Mark pointed at the sobbing child. "You shall stay behind and dispose of the body, and then scrub  the floors." Mark looked down at the boy, who appeared to be nine years of age. "From now on you will rid my halls of bodies and blood stains. Understood?" The boy nodded, tears still streaming down his cheeks. "Good." And with that Mark strode from the hall licking the copper stain from his blade, leaving the boy to deal with the broken and bloodstained corpse of his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for the long hiatus, I'm uploading like mad today!


	4. Chapter 4

Mark strolled through the halls, a smirk on his face. It had been two years since he took the throne, and to him, everything was going perfectly. When he walked into town, all was silent. The whole court feared and respected him. There had been times when neighboring kingdoms attempted to invade, but not only were Mark's armies able to defeat and enslave the intruders, they had also managed to take over said kingdoms. Within two years, Mark was able to take over and rule the entirety of Europe, something his bumbling father and idiotic brother never could have accomplished, he thought with disdain.   
How he had loathed the fools. Not only were they wasting resources on the peasants far below them, but they had no intention of attempting to gain more land. The thought of his bastard brother ruling his perfect kingdom made him ill. No doubt the idiot would take after the old coot, focusing on 'the safety of the village' as if the damn thing actually served a purpose. All it did was trade amongst itself, never acquiring more wealth for the kingdom. Not anymore though.   
The entirety of the kingdom served a purpose, and that was to keep Mark happy. Mark reveled in it, all the wealth and glory, the cries and screams of the things below a sweet music to his ears. Every day, Mark picked one of them out of a gathered crowd, and had them executed. It was a game to him, a thrilling performance, where each act was never the same. In one scene, a man is being buried alive as his family watched on, but the next the roles would be reversed as the man had to stand and do nothing as his wife and children burned alive. The entirety of the play was orchestrated by him, and was accompanied by the sounds of screams, cries, and torment. The scenery was painted crimson, and Mark had grown to love the color. In fact, he adored the color so much that he ordered that the steps be bathed in it. Everywhere you went, blood painted every surface, the floors, walls, ceilings, everything.   
However, the only thing that intrigued Mark more than the sight of blood was the taste. The copper tang of the warm liquid filling his mouth was a drug to him. The feeling of it running down his chin and throat was ecstasy. And Mark preferred it fresh. And young.   
Mark sat on his throne, growing more impatient by the second. His head guard was late. Finally, there was a loud echoing knock on the wooden doors, and soon a guard walked in, avoiding looking at the king and instead focusing on the line of bodies behind him. They were all female, ages thirteen to eighteen, with flawless skin. Each was wearing a thin linen garment that hung loosely on their thin frames and a silver pendant in their hair. The young king did not look at them, however, and instead turned his attention to the guard.   
"Why, are you late?" Mark said in a gruff drawl, staring intently at the guard as though trying to determine whether or not he was prey, and with the kings recent diet, it could very likely be the former.   
The guard stepped forward reluctantly but met the kings gaze and replied in a clear voice that "Some of the villagers turned violent when they came for collections, so they had to exterminate the threat."  
Mark appeared to consider the explanation before snapping his fingers, two guards appearing seemingly from thin air and dragging the screaming guard away to await death. The king then ordered that the girls be sent to the dungeon and fed until they appeared to be in good health. Mark hated to waste his resources, but he simply detested the tasted of malnourished meat. It altered the flavor, and made the blood taste stale.

**Author's Note:**

> Not everything is what it seems.


End file.
